


Love Me or Leave Me

by WaywardGranger



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Kick, M/M, angsty as shit, klance, klance is canon king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGranger/pseuds/WaywardGranger
Summary: Love is tough. Love is scary. Love is . . . vulnerability? Keith is beyond terrified when he takes the leap towards Lance. A chance at trust, a chance at being close, a chance at doing something he's never done before. He wonders if he has what it takes to allow his heart to stand wide open and at Lance's disposal. Would it be worth it? Would his fears pull him back down? What if Lance found out? Would he just leave? Is it always a choice between loving and leaving? Or is there middle ground?
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Klance - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Would You Let Go, Lance?

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of an unreleased Shawn Mendes song called "Love Me or Leave Me". You can find it on YouTube, and I'd highly recommend giving it a listen cuz it's my all time fav song. (exposed).

  


_Can I open my mouth and let the words come spilling out?_

_Show you the side of me that I haven’t figured out? _

~

  


A month. 

It had been a month since Keith had hesitantly broken through his concrete sea of indecision and wariness, reaching . . . reaching . . . reaching . . . 

And a warm hand grasped his. 

Lance, holding out for him just like he said he would; pulling Keith out further and further, until his head was finally above water, and _God_, he could _breathe_. 

Over the tumultuous course of his life, Keith had found a way to breathe underwater, or at least, he thought that’s what it was. 

It wasn’t until he was coughing, coughing until all the rock-hard water brutally clawed at his throat as it cleared his lungs for the first time, that he realized: 

  
_Loving Lance wasn’t a breath of fresh air. _

_It was like breathing for the first time. _

  


And every time he stared at Lance, or stole a glance at his face, he felt . . . warm. Lance was sunlit. Always gleaming, always burning passion onto Keith’s skin. 

Oh, and how he revelled in it. 

Revelled in it, until apprehension seized hold of his legs - his forlorn old friend, desperate to take possession of him again. 

And that’s when he cracked. 

  


Every time. 

  


Even though his head was above water, and Lance held his hand as if he was an extension of Keith, his heart remained underwater. 

But Lance never let go. 

No matter how many times Keith cracked, and despite all of his devils, monsters, and fallen angels pulling, snatching, and clutching at his submerged secrets, Lance never let go. 

But Keith could tell he was getting tired. 

And that tore his heart apart. 

And he debated letting go. 

He knew Lance would let go, eventually. If he ever managed to wholly pull Keith out, he’d writhe in disgust and horror, and leave. 

  


Wouldn’t he?


	2. If I Told You My Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of / implied alcoholism

  
_Can I let it out?_

_Cuz I want you to be there. _

_Yeah, I want you to be there. _

~

  


Keith trusted Lance, more than anyone he’s trusted before. 

And that scared him. 

Yet, some part of him, a fathomless sliver jammed below the surface, doubted. 

Maybe Lance wouldn’t let go now, with most of Keith underwater. But, if Keith was out, exposed, standing bare in front of Lance with his heart and soul in reserve for him, an ache in his core told him he’d let go and watch as Keith plummeted back into his unforgiving sea. 

And the fear that that inspired in him, nothing could dare compare to it, not even his worst beasts as they relentlessly scrounged around below, waiting for the fleeting moment he’d crack and let go. 

But he could never allow himself to be dishonest with Lance, or even withhold huge parts of himself that he so desperately wanted to let go. 

Like all his secrets. 

Things he’s never told a single soul, or written anywhere, or even admitted to himself. Things only he knows, but wants– no, _needs_ Lance to know, too. 

If he told Lance these things . . . 

If he told Lance he doesn’t believe he has what it takes to be the team leader . . . 

If he told Lance of all the times he skipped class back in the Garrison, because nothing else wracked his nerves or fucked with his breathing more than school did . . . 

If he told Lance how much he hates hospitals, because everyone who went there never came back out . . . 

If he told Lance how when he found his mother, a part of him wished he hadn’t, and how much he hated that . . . 

If he told Lance of the time he left the team not because he had a different calling, but because he felt unworthy of being there amongst these Paladins – _defenders of the universe_ . . . 

If he told Lance he’s never had a real friend, before . . . 

If he told Lance he’s never been in love, before . . . 

If he told Lance of all the years he spent in solitude, drowning himself in the ignorant bliss of alcohol . . . 

If he told Lance he hates the scar on his face . . . 

If he told Lance of all the times he’s lied about being okay, when he was a second away from ripping himself apart . . . 

What would Lance do?


	3. If I Showed You My Weakness

  
_And sometimes I’m not quite as strong as I wanna be._

Secrets can be . . . overlooked, maybe even accepted, because, at least there are reasons behind them. 

They’ll eventually blend in, gradually seeping in through the cracks and crevices, becoming a part of the calamity of events that led Keith to where he is today. 

Because this is Lance.

He’d understand. 

He’d keep holding on. 

Right? 

Maybe, just _maybe_, Lance would trust his secrets. But could he bear all of Keith’s weaknesses? All the savage failings weighing him down, wreaking havoc on every fickle aspect of his life. 

Could he ever unearth the courage to show him?

Could he drag himself out further, hoping beyond hope that Lance would pull, pull, and pull?

If he showed Lance the way he mindlessly wanders through his life, without aim, without purpose . . . 

If he showed him just _how much_ his anger gets the best of him, burning through parts of his life he so desperately wanted to hold on to . . . 

If he showed him how erratic and reckless he’s been with any type of relationship in his life . . . 

If he showed him how fixated he is on all-or-nothing. How much it’s cost him, how many good things slipped right out of his grasp because he refused to make halfass efforts . . . 

If he showed him how careless he is with his life, constantly charging into the heat of battles, utterly indifferent to the costs and consequences . . . 

If he showed him his callous insides, entirely desensitized to sentiment, passion, intensity . . . 

If he showed him the chaos and disorder raging through his mind, cartwheeling him away from each and every inkling of feeling or desire . . . 

If he showed him his envy, every painful want of the boons and blessings of someone else . . . 

He’d let go. 

_He’d let go. _

Trepidation consumed his lungs, preparing to settle down for the long haul. 

And as his lungs filled up, the weight of his doubts and sorrows bearing down his heart against the agonizing boulders of the sea, he felt his hand slip. 

But before he could fall, the grip on his hand tightened.

  



	4. If I Told You My Thoughts

  
_And I want you to know all the things that I think about _

_Can I let it out? _  
  
  
He held on. 

Lance _actually_ held on. 

And he pulled and pulled until the bitter air nipped at Keith’s chest, surging past his skin and bones, lighting a fire right under his heart. 

He could hear the _thump, thump, thump_ of his heartbeat in his ears, feel it coursing through his fingers, sense it as it rushed warmth to his mind in a way sunlight never could. 

And it was in that moment he realized that maybe it would be okay to let Lance in. 

Maybe he could pour his heart and soul out to this boy who refused to let him fall. 

Maybe he could . . . tell him things. 

Thoughts. 

Maybe . . . 

Maybe this was adrenaline induced rambling now that his heart was out of the water. 

But on the off chance that it was unchained rationality talking sense into him, maybe it was worth a shot. 

Maybe he could let Lance into the stormy, unfettered ruins of his thoughts. 

Maybe he could guide Lance through the decades of heaps made of all his frights and sorrows. 

Maybe Lance would hold his hand the whole way through as Keith figured out what to keep and what to throw away. 

Maybe Keith could tell Lance of all the dark notions floating or pounding through the landfill of his mind. 

Maybe he could tell him of the thoughts that frequent him at night, disturbing what few moments of silence he receives. 

Maybe he could tell Lance of the thoughts that creep their way into even the happiest of instances, brutally cutting down what short-lived joys visited him. 

Maybe he could tell Lance of the flitting thoughts of inadequacy at every mention of his leadership. 

Maybe he could tell Lance of how even in scarce moments of victory, he feels insufficient, like he could’ve done more. Like, no matter how many accomplishments came his way, at his core he’ll always be a downright failure. 

Maybe he could tell Lance that despite all the people he may be surrounded with, he constantly thinks they’re pitying him, tolerating him because they’re stuck with him, desperately waiting for a chance to leave. Run the other direction. Good riddance, Keith. 

Maybe he could tell Lance how thoroughly unworthy he feels to walk among the rest of the Paladins – all who have potential, something to offer, and weren’t mere shells of themselves, imposters, pretending to be something more than they really were. 

Maybe he could tell Lance he constantly thinks about leaving the team, because it’d be _so easy_ to just replace him. After all, anyone could do what he does, might as well find someone who wasn’t faking it. 

Maybe he could tell Lance he _knows_ how ridiculous and absurd all of that sounds, but he can’t help it. 

Maybe, if he could just . . . reach out a little further . . . 

If his legs weren’t tied down, shackled to the mountains of baggage, he would’ve, for the first time, made the effort to help himself. 

But the reminder of all the parts of him holding him down, it was like trying to stop an earthquake with your bare hands. 

The ground would tear itself apart once it’s decided.


	5. If I Showed You All of My Scars

  
_So much of me I wanna let go_

_So many things I need you to know_  
  
  
Everyone has baggage. 

Horrible secrets and occurrences of the past bearing down on their shoulders or binding them to the deep ground. 

Cargo that you don’t ask for. Loads that you don’t want. Weight that you carry around with you everywhere you go, whether you like it or not. 

Some people learn to lose that baggage. Some let it drag their corpses around, leaving behind morbid trails of undoing. Some throw it off cliffs, only to chase after it in frenzied attempts to find their tattered selves again. Some are so terrified of acknowledging it, they tie it to their feet and ignorantly watch as it drowns all that they are. 

  


Like Keith did.  
  
  
And sometimes, baggage leaves scars. 

The most obvious scar would be the conspicuous mark on his face. 

But he had more. So, so many more. 

He wanted to tell Lance. He finally felt okay telling Lance, but the ground beneath him was cracking, and Keith was slipping. 

And it was loud. _So_ loud. 

The affected cracking of the floor, and the abnormal snap of the earth beneath him reverberated through his bones, reminding him he was hanging on by a dangerously thin thread. 

And he was scared. 

Not of showing Lance himself, but of falling. For the first time, fear took control of his reactions, and he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to climb out onto the shore and show Lance all his wounds and shocks and traumas under the dwindling whispers of sunlight. 

Because, now, he believed he could. 

Because he knew that Lance was devoid of hostility. 

He could show Lance the insurmountable guilt he carries into every type of relationship, after having lost Shiro the first time without offsetting an argument that had become their last words to each other. 

He could show Lance the pure regret marring every decision he makes, because the last time he made a bad decision, he’d left Adam all alone, too self-absorbed to deal with the burried guilt of losing Shiro. 

Oh, how Adam had _begged_ Keith to talk to him, to grieve with him, to heal with him. But no, he went ahead and got himself expelled, then fucked off into outer space, leaving the only family he had, deserted and helpless. 

He could show Lance the vicious words his own father had said to him in a state of incapacitation. Words that haunt his sleep and creep up behind his days. Words he sometimes believes. 

He could show Lance his calloused hands, weathered from years and years of nonstop work, fighting, and moving about. Never stopping for a moment. Never taking a break. Never allowing himself a solitude moment with his thoughts. 

Thoughts that’d keep him up for days at a time. 

Memories playing over and over again like a broken record. 

Fears keeping him on edge, scavenging for signs of dangers that never appeared. 

As he lost himself in the conflict ravaging his mind, the tides shifted, an eerie sting joined the harsh winds, and panic flared in Lance’s ocean blue eyes.  
  
  
Funny. 

One ocean would soon drown him, while the other would save him. 

And until the end of time, Keith would laugh at the ironic ways of the universe.


	6. Is It Love?

  
_Could we talk through the night if I told you I never sleep?_  


  
He was sinking again.

And his heart dropped in exhaustion. 

Was there a point to all of it? Did every secret, every weakness, every thought and scar have some sort of deep, spiritual, hidden meaning? Was there a reason? Did the universe just take immense joy in inflicting and observing?

Did it matter what choice Keith made? Was he free enough to make the choice?

With the tides growing and the ground crumbling, the overwhelming urge to either jump out or let go felt like being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. 

Keith wondered if it always had to be a choice. A choice between holding on or letting go. A choice between loving or leaving. Was there middle ground?

Was there a part of this where Keith could break the dam, and Lance would hold his hand while they watched his world slowly fill itself back into its innate order? 

Could Keith afford to allow every minuscule element of his being fall out, raging, into the open with Lance playing spectator?

Would Lance stay up with him past the graceless hours of the night, when the unrevealed crypts of Keith’s conscience bloomed from the shadows? 

Would that scare him? 

Would whatever feelings he held towards Keith’s undeserving heart, vanish with the snap of his fingers?

Love. 

_It was love_, he thought. 

Lance hadn’t said it yet, but Keith knew. 

_God_, that scared him. 

That _feeling_, that _rush_. The closeness, the _intimacy_ that came with it. The vulnerability and exposure. 

No way that was real. 

Even if it were, no way it ever lasts. 

Did he feel that way for Lance?

He didn’t know . . . 

He didn’t know.


	7. Falling

  
_Could you be the air in my lungs when I can’t breathe?_

As he hung in despair on a precipice of his own undoing, Keith knew one thing for sure. Only one thing. 

He was tired. 

Tired of wondering, tired of doubting, tired of scraping up bits and pieces of himself off the floor to try to find some semblance of essence for his existence. 

He was tired of thinking about how Lance would see him. Tired that he couldn’t trust himself to trust Lance. 

Tired that his mind was a train wreck of thoughts and feelings and _emotions_ he never learned to recognize. Tired of keeping all of that and more locked up inside himself. 

It’d begun with fear. 

Every time he’d allowed himself to be a little vulnerable, or had done so when he wasn’t in control, he was shown or told it wasn’t welcomed. It was far from welcomed. 

He remembered. So vividly. Every moment he’d shown he wasn’t a stone cold, heartless rock, he remembered the _looks_ and the _words_ that dragged a needle and thread over his lips, his eyes, and his heart. 

_“Don’t be so weak.”_

_“You’re too emotional.”_

_“Don’t be so sensitive.”_

_“How are you going to react when something worse happens?”_

_“You’re ruining the mood.”_

_“Calm down.”_

_“Stop overreacting.” _

So what if he wanted to be a little human once in a while? Was it really such a terrible thing?

He didn’t know if he could do that – keep the tears and the joys to himself. He tried. God knows he did. 

But, maybe, for once, all he wanted was to live as loudly and freely as possible. No lines. No rules. No expectations. Just . . . _be_.

Just close his eyes and feel the air in his lungs as he stares up at a blue sky from the top of a hill on a breezy spring day. 

Look up at a cloud and scream into the night with the beats of the thunder. 

Fall to his knees in agony. 

Dance in the sunlight in ecstasy. 

Press another soul against his in starving moments of need. 

He wasn’t asking for money or objects or _things_. He just wanted moments. Just wanted to live. And it had never felt so impossible to just exist as himself, and not a mere shadow of what he could be. 

It scared him that Lance might see him just the way everyone else did. He needed him to be okay with all of Keith’s shards and splinters. Maybe a part of him knew Lance would be everything he needed, but the part of him crashing and burning didn’t see a way there. 

Then, just like that, everything caught up to him: the water, the chains, the quaking ground, the noise, himself, and he finally fell. 

The familiarity of water in his lungs lulled every screaming thought and feeling he’d unravelled since he was pulled out of the sea. 

His conscience cleared, or, was devoid of every human sentiment, and it felt . . . warm. Like he was home. 

A place where he didn’t have to put in the effort to be. 

A place where he could drift off into nothingness with no one to bear witness to his seamless dispassion. 

A place pushing in on his chest, beckoning him downwards with a hand outstretched in goodwill, and a sinister face concealed behind the smile of a friend. 

Maybe he’d take it. 

Familiarity was a lover’s arms, and the unknown an empty book. 

Keith didn’t mean to fall, but he didn’t have it in him to pick, either. A part of him was relieved the choice was made for him. He could now allow his raging sea to swallow him whole. 

Maybe serenity wasn’t as far as he’d thought. 

His eyes fluttered, ready to rest, then caught another pair of panicked eyes above the water – eyes so _blue_ the sea receded into darkness. 

And suddenly, for a moment, those eyes were all he knew. 

And in the fear behind them, lay Keith’s answer. 

_Would you love me or leave me? _

_Tell me how would you see me?_

  



	8. Help Me Help You

  
Lance’s lips were moving, but Keith couldn’t hear what he was saying through the water. 

_“Keith!” _

His eyes kept falling shut against his will. 

_“Keith!”_

The sea slipped between their palms, parting their hands until they were holding on to each other by the tips of their fingers. 

_“Help me, Keith!”_

His head tilted in confusion, slowly, like the water was trying to hold him in place. 

_“Hold on to me!” _

Lance reached out with his other hand, cutting through the surface, taking hold of his wrist, and suddenly the tip of Lance’s nose was underwater. 

No. No. No. 

He could _not_ drag Lance under with him. 

Keith looked up. _Really_ looked. Right into the eyes of the boy who refused to let him drown. He didn’t have to hear his words to understand what was clearly burning in his eyes. 

_Help me help you. _

His sea was thick and relentlessly unforgiving, but Lance was a stubborn anchor. And he was _right there_, only an arm’s length away. All Keith needed to do was meet him halfway. 

He wasn’t so sure he could do that, though, because for _so long_, Lance had met him at 80, 90, 95 percent of the way, and sometimes that’s just how things work. But, now, Keith knew he had to give his half, or he’d fall for good. 

So, he did. 

He closed his eyes and latched onto Lance – his final lifeline. 

Fear, doubt, panic, uncertainty, dread, you name it – _everything_ came storming back as he was pulled up, up, up. 

The sea morphed into a torrent, rapids maliciously clawing at his body, screeching for him to stay. Stay in the familiar. 

But Keith pushed against it, and Lance pulled with a force unparalleled. They worked as a single unit. As a team. As partners. And, together, they made it past the sea. 

There was no beautiful parting of the water, or cinematic moment where the skies cleared, and Keith pulled himself out with the grace of an angel. No, it was horrible and tiring. His body and his soul _ached_. But in the end, it was worth it. 

Keith was pulled to shore and he lay heaving against Lance’s chest. 

They stayed like that, for how long, Keith couldn’t remember. 

But, he did remember the sky. He remembered it was bright and blue when Lance pulled him out, a sort of cruel irony of the universe. By the time he first smiled, navy ink spilled over the heartless blue, and even though flickers of sunlight remained dancing on the edges, some of the stars peeked out to wave at him, as if reuniting with a long-lost friend. 

He also remembered Lance’s voice, soothing in his ear, and placating against his heart. His words sank into Keith’s soul, delicate as they unstitched his jailed humanity, working past every door in a healing cascade. 

“You know,” Lance began softly, careful not to scare him. “I don’t think I need middle ground when it comes to you.”

Keith was silent as he took in those words. He watched ahead as more and more stars stopped by. 

He wasn’t sure if he could talk, throat scratched and tattered from his solace in the sea, but he tried for Lance. “Why?”

Lance’s heart beat steady against Keith’s back as they both stared up at the universe, unwavering. 

“Because,” Lance’s voice grew softer, somehow. “I’m in love with you, Keith Kogane.”

Before he could spiral down a whirlpool of the past, Lance’s fingers found his hair. Grounding. 

Just a touch was all Keith needed to _feel_. To remember. To stay safe. 

Keith pushed back into Lance, whose head tilted forward to rest against Keith’s, fingers slow dancing around in his hair. 

“I know you’re scared.” Lance’s other hand reached around for Keith’s. “You have every reason to be.” His fingers found a place between Keith’s own. “But let me show you it won’t always be like that.” He pressed their hands against Keith’s chest, right over his heart. 

Keith closed his eyes. 

And that’s all it took. One moment. One person. One conversation. Just _one_, to understand that so many people are hung up over the notion that love is this _feeling_ – a crazy rush of adrenaline or whatever. But, no matter what, one day that high will fade away, as scary as it may sound. 

Good thing is, that isn’t love. Love is a commitment. Love is acceptance. Love is teamwork. 

Love isn’t sex. It’s not lust. And it’s not romance. 

Sure, those things could be a part of it for some people, but compassion, kindness, and promises are what stand the test of time. 

So, after that high fades, if it wasn’t all about the infinite pursuit of the rush, love settles into something warmer. Something comfortable. Something safe. 

Keith believed he found that with Lance. 

So, maybe it wasn’t love he was afraid of. Maybe it was . . . being seen. Inside and out. Every nook and cranny. From the tips of his fingers to the intangible depths of his essence. 

But, if eyes were windows to the soul, Keith recognized a familiar roaming spirit every time he looked at Lance. He _saw_ Lance. Simply as he was. 

Lance must see the same in Keith, as imperceptible as that seemed. It had to be something hard and rare – something beyond the realms of human perception. 

A soul connection. 

Something like that could never be encompassed in a few words, but Keith settled for them, for now. 

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh bois, can't believe I finished this lol. Lemme know what y'all thought of this :)


End file.
